#like he's lowkey insidious

[martitheevans]

Them: You better not be Leigh Whannell's cunty IMDb picture when I get there

My unruly ass:

[koinomegaluvr]

i watched insidious: the red door again with my sister, and it grew on me the second time around despite not knowing how to feel abt it initially.

At first i found the story was underdeveloped (and despite my opinions on the movie changing, i honestly still do feel this way lowkey ghgh) but like. i see exactly what they were trying to do, y’now???

i’ve always rlly enjoyed the insidious franchise, not necessarily because i found it scary, but because the concept of the further was absolutely FASCINATING to me. especially because it’s a place that’s like. an endless limbo that’s reminiscent of liminal horror (and i’m a sucker for that shit)

I rlly liked that they brought in more emotional depth & complexity for the lamberts and how they explore more of how the events of insidious: chapter 2 ultimately affected their family and each individual character.

I immensely enjoyed that they wanted to explore themes of generational trauma and repressed trauma, and how sweeping said trauma under the rug rather than trying to heal and resolve it at its root causes it to fester and ultimately harm everyone involved.

i like how they acknowledged how extremely traumatizing it must have been for renai and the kids to see parker crane josh trying to violently DESTROY them. like there ain’t no way that’s NOT going to have devastating effects on your psyche/marriage when you see what you think is your deranged looking father/husband, trying to beat y’all to death with hammers 😭😭 like i can’t imagine how that must have looked for the kids and i’m glad they explored that

i also really like how (at least in my opinion), the red faced demon and his lair is also kinda symbolic of dalton’s repressed & festering mental illness/trauma with how OBSESSED the demon is with dalton. and how he set up all those “scenes” of dalton’s past which makes him just. remember everything (and that made me feel SAUR BAD for him bc recalling that much repressed trauma would be overwhelming as fuck)

that said, i really feel like they could have executed these themes a lot better, in a way that would make a little bit more sense. during the scene with dalton and josh near the end where they’re in the further trying to close the door, dalton states that they have to stop running from the demon. and there i thought dalton and josh were going to slay the demon together once and for all, but dalton just paints over the door leaving josh in the further by himself and i was like ??????????? 😭😭😭😭 hello???

like. aside from it being a bit anticlimactic, i also don’t think it made very much sense of dalton to just paint over the door when he said they couldn’t run/ignore it anymore. i suppose in a sense, dalton painting over the door in of itself symbolizes that he is trying to break the cycle himself, but honestly? it would have made more sense imo if they somehow tried to relinquish the red face demon together, bc to me that would show that dalton and josh are finally trying to resolve their trauma together by tackling it head on, thus competing their arc more effectively.

i wish they could have introduced josh’s father a bit differently—i know the existence of josh’s dad probably wasnt planned from the beginning, so adding him in was going to be a bit clunky no matter what, but i had a hard time feeling anything at all for him as a character…..

i also wish elise had a bigger role in this rather than making a 5 second cameo at the end of the movie just for the the sake of it, especially since she is what makes insidious such an interesting franchise. but i am SO glad we got a specs and tucker cameo i genuinely teared up seeing them :,)

ANYWAY, overall, i’m quite pleased w the movie, even if certain aspects of it could have been executed better. it definitely isn’t THE BEST insidious movie. i think it had a lot of potential to be excellent. i have WAYY more thoughts abt it that i dont think i can convey in a single post but maybe i’ll talk abt them another time

also. dalton and chris my beloveds 🫰🏼🫰🏼

[orcelito]

I love working somewhere that's so fiercely supportive of gay shit. We have a drink of the month sign that one of our gay employees decorated with pride month stuff & someone erased the "pride" in "happy pride month" aka a fuckin micro aggression I guess

Manager is a lesbian and she's like "Oh this is War. I will straight up use company money to decorate the store with flags" bc if some piece of shit customer can't handle a chalkboard sign they're gonna have to deal with So Much More 😊

[sunsburns]

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

part one

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares. 

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep. 

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door. 

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp. 

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering. 

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you. 

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it. 

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night. 

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind. 

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight? 

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool." 

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?" 

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow. 

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure. 

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?" 

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you. 

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—" 

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight? 

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly. 

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

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[muldermuse]

exbf!butcher who purposefully gets you pregnant so you have to breakup with the guy you’re seeing. But Butcher is right there when you tell the guy, smug as hell, and when the dude gets pissed about you cheating, Butcher’s up and slamming the dude into a wall and threatening him😭😭

(I am deranged omg.)

youre unreal for this

he knows you’re pregnant before you do- he can tell by the waves of nausea and how your body is changing so slightly. he lowkey knows your cycle, you’re too busy with work to notice that you’re over 2 months late. when you finally realise, you call butcher sobbing and he knows as soon as he picks up- you’ve realised your carrying his child

you decide to tell your boyfriend together, there’s no way it could be his- you’ve not slept together in like 5 months (ever since butcher reentered your life)

butcher stands behind you, clutching your shoulder as you tell your boyfriend (soon to be ex) that you’re pregnant and it’s butchers. of course, your ex is livid.

“what the fuck are you smirking at, pal?” your boyfriend spits at butcher, you already know that billy is smirking- delighted to have all this playing out in front of him.

“no idea what you’re on about matey, probably best you pack up your things and fuck off…we’re a family now” you know as soon as he presses his lips to your cheek that the whole scenario is about to escalate. for the first time, you’re grateful for the wave of nausea that hits you as you run to the bathroom.

your retching fills the room so much so that you don’t hear butcher pummelling his fist into your boyfriends face- you’ve seen this sick grin on his face before. butcher’s eyebrow is bleeding and trickling thick red blood down his face, filling his mouth and making his smile look more insidious.

you don’t have the energy for this- you shout his name and give him a resigned look. you’re thankful the flat you reside in is yours as butcher grabs your boyfriend by the scruff of the neck and launches him onto the pavement.

butcher is your guard dog, vicious and unforgiving to anyone who hurts you. regardless of the fact that he always hurts you the most.

[the-badger-mole]

Dark!Aang would approve all antis and their insidious hate messages.

Lowkey, I think canon Aang would, too. Oh, he would definitely pretend to be against it, or pretend not to understand what was happening (like he did when his fan club was picking on Katara, the girl he claims to love), but deep down he'd be thrilled to see people going rabid to protect him, just like Bryke are.

[bloodchapell]

matching nails - armin a.

brief summary: doing admin’s nails to match yours, that’s all

what to expect: alt and very nerdy reader, equally nerdy armin, mutual pinning, just a cute scenario

your sword’s note: this is more of a short scenario of little activities these two do, all previous and future parts of this au series can be found in my mistresslist

<My class got canceled, do you want to do anything? :D> armin 👼🏼. 10:24 am

<yessss, after i get my nails done> you. 10:25 am

A few days had passed since you stayed over at his dorm. He avoided talking about that night like it was the plague. Woke up wrapped around your arms like a teddy bear? Never heard of it. He had been somewhat cheerful about life in general since that day for sure, it seemed like he was, strangely, wrong about you hating him or whatever insidious thought he imagined you had about him.

After leaving the dorm of Ymir, the so called “nails girl” at campus, you texted him and it didn’t take him long to go out and meet you.

“Your nails are very pretty.” He mentioned with a smile, taking a careful glance at your nails, as if taking in all details to memorize it for a test.

“Do you want pretty nails too?” You asked jokingly and he nodded to your surprise. In all honesty he just wanted to spent time with you, and at that, if you did his nails it meant that you’d be holding his hands someway or another.

Armin turned into the sweetest after that event and you couldn’t been more content with this new side of his personality. You both walked to your dorm and when you got there, you two sat in your bed and you started doing his nails, matching yours as he had requested. He didn’t care about his friends mocking him for having colorful nails, more so when he knew you did them for him and they were matching with yours. He was ENAMORED.

“And I really like this song called Kyuukaku Shougai… sadly Gulu Gulu disbanded… they were so good.” His glimmering eyes were focused on your hands, that slowly painted his nails and decorated them just like yours; he knew you were talented enough to do them but the right hand was always wonky since you were right handed.

“Their music is reaaaaally heavy, I like Melty Love better!” He said smiling. He had started listening to vkei because you liked it and lowkey he liked it too.

“What a romantic guy!” You pushed him softly and he let out a chuckle. Since he met you, he started caring about things he hadn’t cared much about before, like fashion and music. He was starting to grow uneasy since you cared a lot about expressing yourself through your appearance —not precisely in a banal way but more artistically— and he usually did not put as much effort to stand out; of course it was all in his imagination that went against him all the time because you’d never think that.

Once you finished painting his nails, you asked him to put his hands under the small UV lamp you had and after some minutes you told him you were done.

The first thing he did was compare his nails to yours and when he saw how similar they were he felt himself melting and sighing.

“You like them?” You asked nervously.

“Yes, I love them.” He was quick to nod frantically. He couldn’t wait to show them off to everyone and remark very boldly that his nails were matching yours.

[thoreau-up]

~~Marionetta (S2) Ch 48 spoilers~~

Thoughts~

.

.

Tonny should lose his cool more often, it honestly gave his character some more weight, he was lowkey kinda spineless in S1. I hope this season continues to put Tonny in more control of the situation because i felt like in S1 that Sahed forcibly took control from Tonny and made the reader think Tonny was pathetic and harmless. I honestly want Tonny to become this insidious mastermind who has control over everything and everyone in the circus. Like i love how his character looks so harmless, blonde, goofy, so naturally i want his character to be more sinister as S2 continues to create a nice juxtaposition between his design and his character. And how we see Julia matching Tonny at the end def means some kind of manipulation could be going on bcuz any normal person wouldn’t just accept and forgive that Julia literally threw a knife into their head. He has to have some kind of plan in motion. Esp bcuz he kept sahed in that cage for 2 months and would have forever probably.

[yuanw3i]

a lot of thoughts about silver twisted wonderland

Good morning it’s 3:45 am and dorm silver dropped after almost 3 years so here’s a full length post dedicated to him. not spoiler free

Quick Note: I remember when I first saw all the twst characters lined up and he honestly…didn't stick out much. i picked him as my first favorite anyways though because of zakki and hes been trapped in my brain ever since. Even though his background is still shrouded in ??wtfs i think exploring that is part of the fun of silver!! Personally, I really love him because a lot of his character beyond niceguy.jpg is rooted in subtext and it's super fun to delve into. so i can’t promise this is an unbiased analysis, but I hope you enjoy it anyways. 

Translation Credits: @mysteryshoptls, @twstarchives, and TWST Miraheze’s Enharo translations

OVERVIEW

Silver, at a quick glance, seems like both the most normal and most bizarre character in Twst. In a sea of self-serving, scheming villains, he lacks the sort of insidiousness most of his peers are constantly displaying. From a player’s perspective, we know this is because he’s most likely based on Aurora; but other NRC students simply deign to see him as an oddball. From the Disney properties he’s twisted from to his own strange upbringing, Silver is a bit of a question mark to both us and the ingame characters. In this post I’m gonna try to dissect some underappreciated complexities of his character, and hopefully get you or whoever’s reading this to give him some love! haha hope this doesnt get too long

PART 1: INTRODUCTION 

First off, Silver’s a pretty lowkey guy. Not in the way Jamil is (forced), or the way Trey is (less forced than Jamil but still forced), but moreso in a way that points to him being out of touch with himself and his own internal state. He doesn’t really…stick out in comparison to the more bombastic members of his dorm; at least not at first. A lot of his quirks are hidden behind his cool expression and appearance, and the gap between those two qualities leads to some funny gags in his interactions with others. 

Part of Silver’s charm as a character comes from his super blunt way of speaking, especially when he starts to describe extremely weird situations that he deems are normal. Like in Endless Halloween, when he casually mentions that he’d used to fight bears to Jamil and Jack (who react as expected). He isn’t used to “regular” social conventions, and this is coupled with the fact that he doesn’t really think like a villain does. In Fairy Gala IF, Ace comments on his heroicness, wondering how they both attend the same school. 

Essentially, there’s a significant divide between him and the people around him in both mindset and in lifestyle. Other students also view him as strange due to unchanging face. Some of his voicelines point this lack of expressiveness, like these:  

“They say that silence is golden. But in my case I just don’t have anything worth talking about…” (Ceremonial Robes SR) 

“I’m happy. ‘I don’t look like it’? Understood. Next time I’ll try harder.” (Groovy Voiceline)  

His dorm SSR also places this aspect of his character front and center. In Part 1, he overhears his peers whispering about how expressionless and weird he is. One of the students even questions if Silver has feelings, which triggers Silver to try to “learn how to be more expressive” with Kalim and Jamil’s help. Thank god for Sebek, who plans to spar with him in the courtyard so Silver’s classmates can witness his true, extremely cool self. He reiterates that Silver shouldn’t care about their opinions and doesn’t need to change.  I don’t think being as on display with one’s emotions as say, Kalim, is necessary for Silver to show growth; he doesn’t have to change who he is to please others. I also really really don’t think that him being less externally expressive is a fault. Sebek’s lines in Silver’s dorm uniform story make this very clear. 

PART 2: SILVER IS A HUMAN 

Still, an important part of his dorm uniform personal story is his reasoning behind wanting to change his expressions. He says he feels bad for burdening his classmates this way, and doesn’t want this issue to reflect poorly on Malleus. Silver’s dorm uniform story, as well as countless others (see: his PE card, where he only helps Vil after the former mentions Malleus), show off a key facet of Silver’s character. Of course no man is an island, but Silver only seems to exist in relation to Lilia and Malleus. His lack of self awareness can thus be linked to his constant drive to be useful to them. Silver only focuses on training and bettering himself in academics, physically, magically, etc in order to better serve others or avoid staining Malleus’s reputation; it’s all he can talk about. So much of his life is spent dedicated to his family that he’s frighteningly UNself-centered. And I know that his selflessness is part of the joke, but he really doesn’t seem to be thinking about himself at all, ever. 

One way to read into Silver’s devotion is through the lens of his mortality. Like Sebek, I think Silver has some internal struggle surrounding his humanity. Unlike Sebek, I don’t think Silver is necessarily ashamed of his race or cognizant of this inner conflict; rather, the fact that he is human and is mortal influences his dynamics with the other three greatly. Something easy to overlook with all the gags about Silver falling asleep in random situaftions or playing with animals is that he is burdened with the knowledge he will die long before his loved ones. Lilia, Malleus, and potentially Sebek (not sure about his projected lifespan yet?) are all likely to outlive him and there’s nothing he can do about it. Unlike the others, his time is palpably finite. 

This inner conflict manifests most obviously in his desperation to fix his sleeping issues. While it's in part just a dislike for it constantly disrupting his everyday life, any time spent unconscious is just another reminder of the limited time he has in comparison to his quasi-immortal loved ones. His character profile also marks his dislike as "being idle", which makes total sense when considered in relation to his mortality and not just in relation to his narcolepsy. in this short time he's been blessed with, he should devote his being to giving back to those who raised and cared for him, those who he lives for and who gave him the chance to live. Not a second should be wasted when he could be improving himself as a son, guard, student etc, and this fixation then feeds into his already lacking sense of introspection. While I don’t think he’s necessarily aware of this view of his own humanity (ie it doesn’t cross his mind in such a melancholic or existential way when he’s looking for a cure to his sleeping) I think it’s a key part of his character that explains a lot about his motivations and being. 

But what makes the divide between human and fae lifespans even harder to navigate is the sheer difference in their experiences and values. Of course Lilia and Malleus care for Silver, but the difference in perspectives between a human and a centuries old fae is massive. An example of this is in the Endless Halloween event: 

Silver: There’s no way I could doubt you, Fath…Da…Lilia! You both took this way too far! 

Lilia & Malleus: Hm?

Silver: I understand that you and the ghosts just wanted us to have fun. But those who were taken over by the ghosts tried to fight us. All it would’ve taken was one mistake and someone could’ve gotten seriously injured. Are you saying that was a hint, as well? 

Though Lilia and Malleus clear up the misunderstanding-the ghosts were supposed to tell everyone it was entertainment but were attacked before they could-Silver still shows his willingness to challenge them when he believes it necessary. I wouldn’t add this as an example because it is part of a misunderstanding, but Ace criticizes Malleus in his own SR Scary Dress personal story, citing that “normal students can’t compare”, so he should be more aware of how powerful he is. 

Endless Halloween is in general a really great Silver event. Not only are we shown his willingness to stand up for what he believes is right, even against the people who make up his whole world, he’s forced to confront the question of his humanity in relation to them. In his SSR Scary Dress personal story, he acknowledges that he never thought they could part: 

Silver: Lilia-senpai was always there for me, so I was never lonely.

Silver: Training with Sebek was always fun, and sometimes Malleus-sama would come and visit us in secret…

Silver: Somewhere in my heart, I had decided that that peaceful time would continue on forever.

Silver: …I had never even given it a thought that I could experience a parting.

That’s what makes part 1 of episode 7 is such an interesting set up in terms of character drama- as with the Endless Halloween kidnapping farce, the roles between son and father have been reversed. This time, though, it’s seemingly for real.  Silver can’t picture outliving Lilia, or even just living apart from him forever because the first seemed biologically impossible and the other extremely unlikely, and now everyone is crying and Malleus is burning down NRC. 

The Valley of Thorns is behind on the times. It’s a stagnant and slow to change, a point emphasized in almost all of its mentions, so I think the Diasomnia chapter will center on them coping with time,  change, mortality, etc. I’m trying not to cross over into theory territory, but another possible route episode 7 could take is surrounding Silver’s origins. We see Lilia give him the ring from his original parents. What if he leaves to find them? I really really don’t think he will, but there is that threat of “Silver has ties to another place besides Diasomnia” which is another stake in how lonely Malleus, as the overblotter, is. 

JUST TO REITERATE AGAIN BECAUSE I THINK IT’S IMPORTANT WHEN DISCUSSING SILVER LIKE THIS: I also don't think he's super self-aware yet considering his general lack of introspection, or at least doesn't think about it too often unless he's confronted with a change in the status quo (like in his Scary Monsters SSR). He’s very here-and-now minded. I’m not saying he’s secretly hiding some dark and sad secret side, just that his situation’s complexity extends beyond the falling-asleep-everywhere gags. Mortality and all that. 

PART 3: I LOVE SILVER TWISTED WONDERLAND 

But one thing that always makes me sad about Silver’s situation is wondering…is he lonely? It must be lonely right? Or does he throw so much of himself into others that he isn’t even aware if or when he is? So much of twst boils down to how loneliness absolutely destroys a person, and how understanding from others and human connection is incredibly necessary. Without it, people can turn into literal monsters, consumed by their pain and isolation. Like their leige, Silver and Sebek haven’t socialized with others much until NRC. But a big part of twst chapters is the dorm head/members of the respective dorm connecting with their classmates a little more, which is why I’m hopeful that Diasomnia will have a happy ending. The game is a Disney property after all. 

And as Lilia says, human or not, Silver will always be his son. Sometimes a family can be two fae, a human baby, and their giant crocodile. 

tldr; Silver is isolated in a lot of ways (human instead of fae, has morals unlike the other scrubs at NRC) and hyperfocuses on others instead of his own sake because of it; I think episode 7 will be about him and the rest of Diasomnia learning how to make connections with others while coping with time, change, and mortality. 

[mochi-munchies]

More Ideas about The Get-Along Sweater that Saved the World (aka Ragnarok) Fanfic

This fic is made more to be of in a comedic setting then anything really too serious. The most intense parts of the fic would honestly just be Ink and Error losing their tempers or moments that show you that they are different from everyone else.

Like, when Error first shows up the twins are at first like "who tf is this hobo????" only to see Reaper get that extra crispy chicken wing combo treatment and Fresh get the absolute dawg taken out of him. The scariest part is Frisk just sitting there and not doing anything about it bro. Bc Frisk is lowkey the entity of the most authority among them all, so just seeing them just letting things get out of control really freaks them out.

And then one of the twins makes the mistake of speaking up, catching Error's attention and then it all just goes to shit from there. Error just looks at them with absolute contempt, talking to them like they were little more than babbling newborns- and then when Dream tries to speak up like an idiot, Error just scoops him up with his strings and pulls out Dream's soul right THERE.

Both twins are absolutely freaking out at this point, bc 1. Dream has been fighting to protect his soul for hundreds of years and now suddenly its in the hands of this new bozo who clearly is not in his right mind. 2. Nightmare has been fighting to get his hands on that soul for hundreds of years now, and this rando just comes out of nowhere and pulls it out like its nothing.

Error meanwhile, IS IMMEDIATELY PISSED. "wH- WhAT tHe fUc-cK iS thIz?!?!?!?" Like, he leaves the multiverse for maybe two Undernovela marathon's worth of a break and now there are ABOMINATIONS that aren't even REAL SANSES???? WITH FUCKING APPLES FOR SOULS????? DISGUSTIIINGG!!!!!!

He was fr gonna kill Dream then and there, but then suddenly he's having a conversation with someone's who's not there, and then he suddenly whirls on Nightmare with a grin that makes him want to run and hide. "yO- yO- YoU're tHe aBomiNaTIon- tiOn reSpoNSiblE foR lETt- EttINg mE ouT?" He says it like he already knows the answer, and Nightmare feels his soul just stop.

Error then wraps Nightmare and drags him over to Dream next, the twins are absolutely helpless, both their souls on display to this psycho, and Error's just cooing down at them with all the malice in the world, deciding to 'spare' the two just this once in thanks for their help.

He leaves them there. Absolutely terrified out of their wits, with the other gods all in various states of panic and injury.

And they realize just how bad they fucked up.

Then later on when they meet Ink for the first time, he's in the middle of like, a feverish artistic spree. Absolutely ecstatic and frustrated and impatient and overwhelmed with how much things have changed since he left, so all of his bottled up creativity and emotions are just flooding out. He's just creating an endless spew of AUs that are ranging from the fantastically uncanny to the horrifically inscrutable, and since he's doing it in an unstable frame of mind, they're all coming out malformed and incomplete, making the worlds just all the more distorted and insidious.

Dream and Nightmare are in one of these worlds when Ink just kinda pops in from out of nowhere all like, "oh, hey! You two are new! :D" and the twins are just going along with his ramblings at first, not exactly knowing that Ink is explicitly who they're looking for but being suspicious all the same.

And as Ink chats, it becomes all the more evident that this guy is the creator, and he's so unsettling. He's talking about all these worlds and their suffering, the other gods betraying him, his experience being locked away so long in the Doodlesphere without being able to create anything, in such a detached and casual way and he's just all giggles and playfulness and neither of the twins can feel jackshit from him and its freaking them the hell out.

Finally Ink is all like "oh shit! I forgot about Error! Omg! He's probably out now too! I def gotta go find him!" and its when the twins step in to stop him that shit hits the fan.

Ink. Does not like. Being obstructed. From what he wants. Suddenly all the projected emotions are swept aside and Ink gives them both one warning. They don't take it.

And then all the whimsical elements in the world around them is suddenly shifting into something more oppressive and twisted. Ink is suddenly lashing out at them like an eldritch, feral animal and neither of the twins can put him down while he's like this so they are forced to flee with their tail between their legs.

All in all, their egos are quite crushed, and with the other gods refusing to endanger themselves and their people after putting themselves on Ink and Error's hitlists as it was, they only have each other for comfort and help.

[upn-the-sky]

Not gonna pretend, I am absolutely in love with Greek saga, but it has a bunch of controversial plot moments which much easier to ignore than try to explain. And despite my love to GOW Ascension especially my mind really straggles to logically tie some things from there with the previous games.

BUT

I just figured out huuuuge plot connection and was like holy shi!1

Yesterday I walked around a Blood tasks, which made Kratos belong to Ares. Orkos said Ares planned Olympus endgame for many years, because, well, he needed to deal with two prophecies: about God of war, who will cause the destruction of Olympus, and about Marked warrior, who will take down the walls of Olympus. Ares needed his warrior because as everyone know, Olympian gods are not able to fight each other directly. This is their law. And after a fail with his own son, he chose Kratos. He kept an eye on him and waited for him for many years. Ares tested him, his power, his spirit and morality long before he showed himself to Kratos. And during making preparations for this moment he allied with Furies to device the perfect sealing for his bonds with Kratos.

So Ares wanted Kratos for himself and conditions for him were:

spill the blood of your enemies

spill the blood of the innocent

spill the blood of your very own

Aren't they cunning? The question is always in wording and interpretation, in other words if you overthought this shit it is your problems.

Conditions insidiously uses the word "Spill" all three times. Not kill. Okay, Kratos oneshoted Alrik with Blades, and new powers+his own pride made everyone his enemies from this moment. But you can spill a 5 litres of blood or cut a heccing finger and spill a couple of blood drops. And it still will work, because there is no words that says that you need to spill a certain amount of blood!

Second point. Blood of the innocent. You see it? THE One Innocent, not innocents, not 1000 of innocents, not anyone who were specifically chosen by Ares himself. Kratos can kill someone literally by accident, dropping a wall on him or her or whoever it can be, or just cut a finger of this absolutely random innocent person. Because there is still no limit of blood spilling. Well, here just like with Alrik Kratos was very okay with killing by order or not, so he killed MANY innocent people because he was able to.

And the third one. Blood of your very own. This condition is such a lowkey trap, I can't. 'Your very own' is what YOU regard as your beloning. It didn't have to be a direct descendant like Calliope, who was his daughter, or a loved one like his wife Lysandra, who was the closest non-relative to Kratos. Well, who else, you ask?

Remember that Ares put an eye on Kratos for a long ago? Already has an idea who was Kratos's very own BEFORE his daughter or wife?

It was Deimos.

Yeah. Who was taken by Ares as if 'by accident'. Everyone thought Ares made a mistake by capturing the wrong boy. Because it is common to think that Ares is dumb. (Well, maybe he is dumb in comparison to Athena, but not by definition). Ares hid Deimos at Thanatos's place (who was his debtor in mythology, Ares saved him once from a trap), althought he could just kill him. But what if I say, that he kept him as a reinsurance. There was always a chance that Kratos won't have family or friends or won't love them as much as it need to comply the last condition or they will accidentaly die before Kratos called for Ares to help him. And if this happens, Ares would just get Kratos's beloved brother from the basement and throw to him for spilling the last blood. From the Deimos's finger. Or shreded guts. Just like that, captivation of Deimos became not only a catalyst of marked warrior prophecy itself and a seal for Kratos's personality, his strong and weak sides. It didn't leave Kratos a chance to somehow avoid the blood spilling. AND STILL. If all of Kratos's relatives failed their role, Kratos was able to comply it with his own blood! What is more your own than your own body?

You see how it works now? All three tasks consider every options of the upcoming events. Kratos can be loyal to him and complete the tasks, simply obeying the orders. He can be absolutely unloyal and do only what he wants as a general, and still accidentaly complete the tasks. He can murder everyone on his path and complete it, or don't murder anyone at all and still complete all three, accidentaly hurting people around him. And what the main point, there is absolutely no need for Ares to have any participation in it. Completing tasks doesn't need his direct orders or will or even presence, only Kratos's actions mattered.

After that what can i say. Maybe Ares wasn't a virtuoso in tactics, but the language of jurispredence is truly his mother tongue.

I know, someone will fight me by saying that Furies did the whole job for this dumbass, but you can consider all this nuances only if you know every inch of the person you want to bond. Ares acknowledged Kratos's nature from the heels to the edges of his nails, every bit of his heart, mind and soul. And what speaks loudly: he absolutely succeeded in all his goals. From making his perfect warrior to killing Zeus by his arms.

What really let Ares down in this masterful plan? Well, when Kratos was in his arms already, Ares couldn't stand and succumbed to impatience. And I even can't blame him ahah, after decades of waiting, bet he was quite pleased with himself and with Kratos. His loyal and favorite warrior finished the final task (sat there, holding his dead wife in his arms). Finally ready for taking Olympus down standing side by side with his master. He should wait juuuuust a bit longer without saying a word, wait until Kratos's first shock will fade. If only Ares stay quite and wait, soon Kratos would come to his master's arms for consolation by himself. And Ares would be able to mold whatever he want from him.

But it would be a different story.

[terrence-silver]

Do you think Dynatox would still be around in CK era?

---

I like to think it does but that it has been totally re-branded to fit 21st century sensibilities, if you get my meaning. Much like Terry Silver himself was when we first meet him.

It's new!

Modernized!

Sustainable!

Transformed!

In Terry's own words, Nuclear was the acceptable waste disposal type in the past, but what about now? Current day? What's the acceptable work ethic now? Would be hilarious (and pretty realistic) if Dynatox went entirely green...seemingly, anyway. On the surface. Throwing on a fresh veneer. Precisely because it's the allowable thing to do and to cover up all the indiscretions and grimy stuff the company did in the past --- a thing that companies do in real life anyway. It didn't stop existing, I feel. It merely changed itself apparently. Entirely possible if took on a new name too. One that's less insidious sounding. Less suggestive. Dynatox? Toxic Dynamite!? No, no, no! How about something more palatable and marketable? Something less intimidating? Something tame, friendly, lowkey and meant to broadcast that they're here helping the native communities of Borneo and all communities like it around the this wonderful, beautiful Earth nowadays instead of dumping toxic sludge all over their lands? All while, lets be real, when you look in beneath the surface of this firm, much like Terry himself is, it's probably entirely identical to what it's always been; corrupt, hiding a hell of a lot of secrets and with a bunch of skeletons in the closet, except, this time around, it's equipped with a shinier exterior that isn't as likely to get Mr. Silver booed by protestors. How can he be booed? When he's running the most ethically green company far and wide? He undoubtedly won awards and accolades for it too in the last few decades. His name gets brought up at the World Economic forum whenever green energy is mentioned.

Dynatox has never been bad. That's hearsay!

How can something synonymous with cleaner energy for a brighter future be bad?

😉

[villainsblog97]

Xdinary Heroes Reaction

Watching a Horror Movie with you

Hello friends! Your friendly neighborhood XH content writer is back! I'm so sorry I've been so IA these few months, a lot or crazy had happened! But I am back with more XH content to feed the delulu little mind!

Summary: I recently just watched the newest Insidious movie and it got me thinking how would our heroes react while watching a horror movie with you!

Warning: Mild language usage, mentions of horror related stuff?

Scenario: boyfriend au, romance, fluff, comedy

GUNIL 💀

(Let's all just take a moment to admire the art that is Goo Gunil)

Our brave leader

Much like how he was in the beginning of the haunted house ep of RTW

He'll act tough

Like he's scared of nothing

"Just hide behind these guns baby!"

*flexes his muscles*

But as the movie progresses

He's gonna be screaming

But I can see him still protecting you

As he's fearing for his life

(Kind of like the theater scene in Goblin)

(If you know you know 🙃)

Jungsu

(My little bean boy)

Jungsu can't handle scary shit

So this was already a bad idea

Like he's gonna try so hard to keep his composure

Your hand is locked in his

Tightly

He'll be shaking his head as he sees how the main character slowly approaches the door

"Don't do it.....don't do it!"

*JUMPSCARE*

"AHH! I SAID DONT DO IT!"

I can also see him pressing his lips together to suppress the scream that's wanting to emerge from his throat

Eyes shut tightly

You're a little worried about him

"Jungsu... we can watch something else!"

"But I wanna see how it ends"

(Why is he so cute!? 🤧)

Gaon 💀

Someone help this poor boy

We have ALL scene how well he takes scary stuff

He doesn't....

So with that being in mind

He's a mess

Already

And the movie just started

"Why did I agree to this...."

His soul is on the verge of leaving his body

He's gonna be gripping the popcorn bowl tightly

Using it as a shield

Definitely cursing at the movie

*JUMPSCARE!*

*Popcorn is now everywhere*

Jiseok now has a pillow in his lap and his head behind your shoulder

O.de

Much like Gunil

Seungmin is gonna have that cool guy persona to him

Nothing scares him anymore!

Or does it?

He's sitting back on the couch

Arms crossed over his chest

Rolling his eyes at all the "scary" parts

But there's one in particular jumpscare that actually does make him jump

Now your laughing at him

"You should have seen your face Min!"

Back to cool guy

"Whatever!"

Junhan 💀

Hyeongjun had already shown us that he doesn't really get scared easily

So again if you've seen the ep of RTW

You guessed it

He's mostly just gonna laugh at you

Like he's enjoying the movie

But he's enjoying you freaking out and grabbing onto his arm

He's also enjoying how clingy and cute you are

He'd also 100% try to make you jump too

Because Hyeongjun is a lowkey little Savage

So this is now all for his own personal amusing

"We'll watch something funny after this Jagiya"

Jooyeon 💀

(Oh my boy!)

Okay so his is like Hyeongjun

Except vice versa

YOU are gonna be the one enjoying his reactions

Jooyeon doesn't just talk to the TV

He's full blown yelling at the TV

"Don't answer the door you stupid girl! Yep she's gonna die!"

He's trying to stay angry to hide his absolute fear

Boys going through it

I can see him getting into the storyline

The little noises he makes at the jumpscares

(🥺)

Holding onto you for comfort

You making him jump every couple minutes just to hear his cute little scared noises

And then he's whining to you

"Jagiyaaa don't do that!"

Anywho! That's all for now! I have more content I'm working on today! So please look forward to it!

Don't forget to stream Break the Brake tomorrow and give LIVELOCK lots and love!

ILY guys! 💕

[otrtbs]

lowkey vibrating at the thought of a tsh-esque fic!! one of my favorite books and i’m just already so ready to see how/if it progresses? or who the fic would even be containing omg.

omg hii!! yeah hehehe just like,,, idk why i just want art history and marauders 5ever and ever and ever,,, like tbh im thinking after i write the dinner fic,, i'll just abandon every other wip idea and go full in and be an art history marauders writer for the rest of my fandom life literally it's just so preliminary rn (tsah the secret art history <3) it would be jegulus bc i love them sm and james would be the richard papen of it all i guess,,, like he would be the transfer kid into the elite club of art history students and the outsider,,,, and it would be pandalily as well but lily would be the one playing the judey poovey roll-ish,, she's the one who's like "these ppl are crazy maybe u should do coke in a burger king parking lot abt it" but she's not vapid or anything she's dating pandora who is very much in the secret art history cult so she knows how insidious it all is they're all very competitive and secretive and there's this huge print project that they're all working on for the first semester (they're in teams but they're all working against one another and the winner gets to curate the university's next art show) and barty is the nepotism baby "my father is a descendant of knoedler come 2 my house in the countryside and drink whiskey out of dainty teacups",, they do crazy things to prove how INTO art they all are,,, (steal ruins from archeological sites they're working on,,sneaking their own works into prestigious art exhibitions,,, creating a little shop of forgeries "just in case",,, trying to break in museums and slash paintings w meat cleavers a la mary richardson) i want something BIG something BACCHANAL-ESQUE but i haven't gotten that far ,,,, but i also want to write a re-telling of van gogh and gauguin and the yellow house months one day but wolfstar style and regulus would be theo and would send his brother money and fund his painter lifestyle and be his art dealer as best he knew how AND THEN JAMES WOULD BE JOHANNA FOR SIRIUS IYKYK also just really obsessed with art restorationist lily evans and her conservation studio taking on a protégé (mary) and them falling in love over restoring art works but idk that's just a wisp of an idea

[yopapiishere]

05. Estimated Time of Death

Just Breathe: Modern Warfare II x Reader

Word Count: 3,844

(A/n): Why did it take so long to write this, I lowkey hate myself for writing this cringe, I have a hate-love relationship with writing

(All photos off Pinterest)

Ghost POV

Looking back on my previous question, "I know you didn't sleep well last night," I can't help but wonder why I phrased it that way. The expression on her face at that moment is vivid in my memory – a mixture of confusion and what seemed almost like a suppressed frown. I can't help but question myself: What was I thinking? Could I have possibly sounded any creepier? It's moments like these that make me second-guess my social interactions and my ability to gauge what's appropriate.

Having spent what feels like an eternity in the military, I find myself trapped in a communication labyrinth. The echoes of barked orders and the weight of issuing commands linger in every spoken word. It's as if my identity has been consumed by this relentless military machinery, leaving me struggling to find a way to converse that doesn't involve tactical strategies or combat anecdotes. Each attempt at connection feels like navigating a minefield, wondering if the next sentence will detonate discomfort or unease. The civilian world seems alien, and the haunting familiarity of my military life seeps into every conversation, a constant reminder that I'm ensnared in a communication web that's nearly impossible to untangle, yet alone with someone who clearly needs comfort.

Leaning against the cold, white wall, I'm lost in a whirlwind of thoughts as I endure the agonizing wait for her tests to conclude. My mind keeps circling back to the intense conversation I shared with Soap last night just before I retreated into the solitude of my room. The words weigh heavily on my mind, etching deep furrows onto my brow. A problem with her lungs, they said. An inundation of water is so extensive that the idea of breathing, let alone surviving, seems unfathomable. And yet, despite the odds, she walks and breathes. It's a macabre marvel, a reality-defying medical explanation. Could the water in her lungs be a cruel testament to her past drowning, or does her continued existence belie a darker truth? Could this resurgence of affliction be the reason, or is there something more insidious at play? The haunting question persists: How does life still cling to her, defying the very limits that should have consumed her?

A simple, absurd notion crept into my mind: what if she's a 'ghost'? A wry smirk tugged at the corner of my lips, though I couldn't muster the energy to entertain such a ludicrous idea. The concept seemed so preposterous that I found myself dismissing it without a second thought.

————

In the midst of rigorous military training, Soap's commanding voice cut through the air as he addressed the private who had been laughing just moments before.

"Do you think something's funny, private?" Soap's eyes bore into the young soldier, his tone devoid of amusement.

"No sir!" The private's response was immediate and sharp, his laughter replaced by a firm resolve as he stood at attention. The tension in the air was palpable as Soap's voice grew even louder, his frustration evident. The private's voice rose to match Soap's intensity, the distance between them reduced to mere inches as they stood eye-to-eye.

As Soap strode down the first row of rookies, his commanding presence filled the air. The silence was stifling, each recruit bracing themselves for what he was about to say.

"You know what I think of you maggots?" Soap's voice was sharp and cutting, his gaze sweeping across their faces. But there was no silence to be found, tension crackling like electricity.

"I think you assholes who went through boot camp are still not ready," Soap's words hit like a verbal barrage, leaving no room for misunderstanding. His voice surged in volume, carrying the weight of his frustration and expectations.

"My job is to make you all into soldiers, and I don't think I'll be able to, because you all are a bunch of ignorant pussies!" The room seemed to vibrate with the force of his words, an unapologetic challenge thrown at the feet of the recruits.

A smile crept onto the face of one of the rookies, catching Soap's discerning eye amidst the tension.

"One hundred laps around the yard. Now," Soap's voice held an unwavering command as he leaned down to confront the rookie at eye level.

"What?" The rookie's incredulous response hung in the air, challenging the order given.

"Are you disobeying, private?" Another voice interjected, as the crowd turned to see Gaz stepping in.

"I didn't even—" The rookie's words were cut short by Gaz's interruption. "Are you forgetting your fucking rank? When someone higher up says run, you fucking run," Gaz's grip on the rookie's collar emphasized his point, igniting a sense of urgency.

Soap's expression remained unamused as he exchanged a glance with the rookie. Their attention then shifted to the scene unfolding as the rookie begrudgingly began his laps around the yard, the punishment clear.

"Dismissed," Soap's single word punctuated the conclusion of the ordeal, his arms crossed in a display of authority.

Gaz leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, a deep frown etched on his face as he watched the group of fresh-faced rookies amble away. "You were right when you said you were having' a hard time training these kids," he grumbled, his voice a mixture of annoyance and resignation, as if the weight of their inexperience had finally settled in.

Soap, standing a few feet away, glanced at Gaz and let out a heavy sigh. He turned his head to meet Gaz's gaze, the creases on his forehead deepening. "It's fuckn' horrible," Soap admitted, his voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who had been pushed to their limits. "Each one of them tests my patience like it's their personal mission."

Their conversation turned to the young woman who was brought in last night. Soap's eyes shifted to Gaz as if seeking an answer to an unspoken question that had been bothering him. "How long do you think she's gonna be here?" Soap's voice held a hint of surprise, as if Gaz's next words were entirely unexpected.

Gaz shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that betrayed his uncertainty. "No idea," he replied, his tone mirroring his confusion. "But we've seen 'em come and go before. Can't be too attached."

A flicker of annoyance crossed Gaz's features as he brought up Graves, the shadow himself. "Graves is calling us babysitters," he muttered, his eyes rolling in exasperation. The image of the stern southern man came to mind, a figure whose imposing presence often led to mixed feelings among the team.

Soap's lips quirked into a half-smile, his gaze distant as he seemed lost in thought. "She's nineteen," he scoffed, a touch of disbelief coloring his words. "She doesn’t need a babysitter. She's only here for protection, nothin' more." Soap's words held a note of defiance, a reminder that despite the frustrations and challenges, their duty remained clear – to ensure her safety in an unforgiving world.

Gaz's lips curved into a subtle, flirtatious smile, his thoughts colored by Soap's words. The barracks were about to get a whole lot more interesting with (Y/n) adding to the allure.

———

"John, I appreciate your coming," Laswell acknowledged Price with a serious tone as she settled into her seat. A furrowed brow accentuated her expression, directed at the phone and laptop placed before her. The cord connecting the two devices suggested an important and potentially grave matter at hand.

"Any leads so far?" Price inquired, lowering himself into a seat beside Laswell. He produced a cigar, igniting it with a flicker of flame. He was aware that the scent wouldn't be an issue; after all, Laswell smoked cigarettes despite her wife's disapproval.

"Reviewing her messages. The contents are concerning," Laswell responded, her voice trailing off as she swiveled the military-grade laptop toward Price, revealing a screen laden with potentially troubling information.

The initial message arrived around 8:00 pm, on a Saturday.

Dad: Need to talk. Something happened.

The messages were ignored.

Dad: Stop being mad at me. It's about your brother.

The second attempt was left unread as well.

Dad: Charlie overdosed. You need to come to the hospital right away. They said he doesn't have much time.

(Y/n): On my way.

Dad: The newscast said there’s going to be a blizzard, be careful it’s icy out.

Price's brow furrowed as he read through the messages, his lips forming a tight line. He took a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar. His perusal continued.

A message was received at 12:58 am.

Dad: Where are you?

Dad: It doesn’t take four hours to make it to the hospital. Where are you?

Dad: I texted your mom; she said you left around eight. What’s happening?

Price's frown deepened as he absorbed the contents of the messages. Each communication remained at the "delivered" status without any response.

"I believe she passed away the very night she departed to visit her brother at the hospital," Laswell's voice shattered the silence, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Price's frown deepened as he drew another drag from his cigar.

"Do her family members struggle with substance abuse?" Price inquired, casting a glance in her direction.

"I've combed through her messages. Her brother and mother grapple with drug issues, while her father battles alcoholism," Laswell responded, shaking her head as if trying to process the information herself.

"Hell..." Price muttered, inhaling deeply from his cigar.

"Is her brother still alive?" Price inquired, his gaze fixed on Laswell. "The messages abruptly ceased around 1:00 am." Laswell turned her attention toward Price, her expression grave and contemplative.

With an air of intrigue, Price extended his hand towards the laptop, his movements purposeful and deliberate. His fingers danced across the interface, scrolling through the compiled data before he homed in on the enigmatic section containing photographs, as if seeking to unveil the hidden layers of the situation.

—————

Ghost

"While she slept, we conducted a few tests. All results appeared normal. The water has been successfully drained from her lungs, and she's expected to recover without complications. I've also provided pain medication," Nurse Ayan informed Ghost, his gaze fixed on (Y/n)'s medical chart. Ayan handed Ghost a small plastic orange bottle that was halfway filled with pills. He took them and shoved them into his pocket.

Gesturing for Ghost to enter the medical room, Ayan ushered him inside. Inside the room, (Y/n) was perched on the edge of the bed, her feet swaying gently back and forth.

"She's still a little groggy from the anesthesia," Ayan clarified, approaching (Y/n). Ghost's eyebrow arched with curiosity as he observed the young woman before him.

"Will she recover fully?" Ghost's voice held a note of apprehension, his concern for (Y/n) evident.

"She's going to be just fine," Ayan reassured, his tone soothing as he carefully helped (Y/n) sit up. "I do recommend that she takes a brief nap to allow her body to fully recover from the anesthesia."

Ghost's brow furrowed as he absorbed the information. "Price did mention she was going to have a busy day today," he confirmed, his gaze shifting between Ayan and (Y/n) as he contemplated the situation.

(Y/n) stumbled her way over to Ghost, her eyes glistening with tears.

"Can I go back home now? I miss my dog…” Her voice quivered, and she wiped at her eyes. Ayan's lips pressed together in a sympathetic expression, his gaze resting on her with sadness. Meanwhile, Ghost's reaction momentarily froze.

Ghost glanced at Ayan, who silently mouthed, "Play along."

"Yeah, I'm here to take you home," Ghost responded, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. (Y/n) nodded, mustering a faint smile as she wiped her tears.

"Is Charlie back at home?" Her voice held a touch of anxiety as she bit her lip. Ghost nodded in affirmation, his reassuring gesture conveying everything. He guided her towards the door, both of them now part of an unspoken understanding, even if one had no idea who the other person mentioned.

Guiding (Y/n) down the corridor, Ghost found himself consistently bumped from behind. He clenched his lip, trying to suppress his annoyance. In the midst of navigating, he sensed her footsteps halt, causing him to glance backward. His heart sank; she had vanished.

"Fuckin’ hell..." he muttered under his breath, acutely aware of the trouble he was in if Price ever got wind of this.

He commenced his search, inadvertently interrupting a meeting in one room. Without saying a word, he scanned the area, even stooping to check beneath a table, which earned him perplexed glances from the occupants.

As he continued his search, a sudden shout echoed through the halls. The voice was unmistakable, and Ghost's senses went on high alert. Swiftly, he traversed the hallway, rounding a corner to witness (Y/n) locked in an argument with Graves. A group of Graves' soldiers stood nearby, arms folded, adding to the tense atmosphere.

"Shouldn’t you be on watch?" Graves inquired, his eyebrow lifting as he gazed down at the young woman.

"They removed the ankle monitor ages ago," she responded, meeting his gaze. "Wait, am I back in jail?" Her eyes darted around cautiously. "I thought this was some kind of strip club," she added, her gaze focusing on Graves, who couldn't help but chuckle.

"Not even close, sweetheart," Graves retorted, his words prompting a few chuckles from the surrounding shadow soldiers.

"Finally found you," Ghost chimed in as he looked down at (Y/n). She peered up at him with a playful glint in her eyes. "Are you the grim reaper?" She poked him in the chest. Ghost rolled his eyes, capturing her hand gently, mindful of her bandaged fingers.

Graves let out another chuckle, his gaze fixated on her. "What's up with her?" he inquired, a bemused expression on his face. "Anesthesia," Ghost responded succinctly, guiding the young woman away from the scene.

"Nooooo, take me back! I was just about to get a lap dance," she protested, her tone playfully petulant as she made a half-hearted attempt to squirm out of his hold. Undeterred, Ghost smoothly maneuvered, his arm snaking around her waist. With a practiced motion, he effortlessly lifted her over his shoulder, earning a more dramatic chorus of whines from her in response.

Her voice remained a melodic blend of complaint and amusement, creating an odd harmony as they moved down the corridor. A few lingering glances from the shadow soldiers followed them, amusement evident in their expressions as they observed the interaction between Ghost and the spirited young woman on his shoulder.

"Take it all you hoes,” she yelled as she reached into her back pocket and threw spare change at Graves and the shadows who followed behind Ghost carrying the young woman.

"Stop it," he grumbled as the soldiers chuckled.

"No, I want my money back, they're not even undressing," (Y/n) whined, her frustration evident as she squirmed in an attempt to get off Ghost's shoulders. His grip around her tightened, ensuring she wouldn't slip off.

With a forceful push, Ghost swung open the entrance to the barracks, revealing Soap and Gaz who exchanged curious glances upon seeing the unexpected scene. Keeping a firm hold on (Y/n), Ghost gently lowered her onto the couch, his expression remaining impassive despite her protests.

"You said you were taking me home, what kind of stripper are you?" she huffed, her glare fixed on Ghost. The combination of her annoyance and Ghost's stoic demeanor created a humorous contrast, drawing a bemused smile from Soap and Gaz as they watched the unfolding exchange.

"Out," Ghost's command was clear and uncompromising, prompting the Shadows to exit the room, a swift departure that left an air of mystery behind.

"What the hell is going on?" Gaz's bewildered expression mirrored his question as his gaze shifted between Ghost, (Y/n), and the now-vacated room. The perplexity in his voice was palpable, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected turn of events.

"Anesthesia," Ghost's response was curt, his eyes rolling in exasperation at the need for an explanation. The single word left lingering intrigue in its wake, as if it held a deeper meaning only known to Ghost himself.

Amidst the aftermath, Soap approached the couch where (Y/n) sat, concern etched across his features. "You alright, lass?" His voice carried genuine care, a steadying presence in the midst of the confusion. But (Y/n) wasn't about to let the seriousness linger, her playful spirit shining through.

"Did you lose a bet to have a haircut like that?" Her voice was teasing, a playful glint in her eye as she playfully stood up on the couch, her finger prodding Soap's chest. The unexpected remark hung in the air, briefly shifting the atmosphere from confusion to light-hearted banter, even earning a small chuckle from Ghost, whose rigid demeanor cracked for a moment.

Soap's response was swift and protective. He reached out and gently took hold of her shoulders, carefully guiding her back onto the couch. "That's it, you need sleep," he declared, his tone firm as he rolled his eyes, a mixture of exasperation and concern evident in his actions.

Protesting against the idea of sleep, (Y/n) let out a playful whine, her reluctance to give in clear in her voice.

Meanwhile, Ghost took a seat at the island nearby, settling in next to Gaz. His expression remained impassive, but a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as he observed the interaction unfolding.

Soap wasn't about to back down. With a playful determination, he retorted, "Yessss..." mimicking (Y/n)'s earlier whine, a playful glint in his eyes. The lighthearted exchange showcased the camaraderie between the team members, even in moments of fatigue and confusion.

"Can I just stay up longer... I need to see Charlie first," (Y/n) pleaded, making an attempt to sit up. Soap's initial reaction was to freeze, a mixture of worry and determination crossing his features, but he gently eased her back down onto the couch.

"You'll see him when you wake up. He isn't back yet," Soap's words were compassionate yet laced with a painful lie. His frown deepened, revealing his concern for her and the difficult situation at hand.

"No, we're supposed to go... see..." (Y/n)'s words trailed off as her eyelids drooped, her fatigue finally winning over her determination. Slowly, she succumbed to sleep, her voice fading away as she drifted off.

"Who the fuck is Charlie?" Gaz couldn't help but mutter under his breath, a question that hung in the air unanswered, leaving everyone equally clueless about this mysterious figure.

Ghost, always the pragmatic one, spoke up as he made his way to the kitchen on the other side of the room. "She's gonna be in a lot of pain when she wakes up, let her sleep," he advised, his words carrying a sense of understanding about the situation.

As Ghost departed, Soap turned to Gaz, a hint of uncertainty in his expression. "You think I should shave this off?" He pointed at his mohawk, seeking Gaz's opinion. Gaz responded with a simple eye roll, apparently uninterested in discussing hairstyles at that particular moment. The mundane question amidst the unusual circumstances brought a touch of normalcy back to their interactions.

Gaz's curiosity got the best of him, and he found himself studying the sleeping woman with a mix of fascination and concern. She appeared nearly lifeless in her slumber, but a sense of serenity graced her features. After a few moments of contemplation, he finally tore his gaze away from her.

However, Soap, always quick to pick up on things, noticed Gaz's brief fascination. With a playful smirk, he couldn't resist poking at his friend's curiosity. "She looks peaceful doesn’t she...?" Soap began, his tone teasing, but Gaz was having none of it.

"Bloody shut it," Gaz retorted, a hint of annoyance in his voice as he stood up and headed for the kitchen to make some tea.

Moments later Price entered the room with a quiet, respectful demeanor. His eyes fell upon the young woman who was peacefully asleep on the couch. Recognizing the need for comfort, he moved to the end of the couch and carefully picked up the light couch blanket, draping it gently over her sleeping form.

As he stepped away, his thoughts lingered on the woman's apparent loss. "I'm sorry about your brother, love," Price silently conveyed his sympathy, his footsteps carrying him towards the enticing aroma of the tea that Gaz was in the process of making.

The television screen suddenly flickered on and then displayed nothing but static, leaving everyone in the room completely unaware of the unexpected interruption except for Soap.

Gaz, Price, and Ghost exchanged puzzled glances, their expressions mirroring a collective bewilderment. Gaz set his tea down, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of the situation. Price raised an eyebrow, having just returned, equally clueless about the strange occurrence. Ghost simply stared at the static-filled screen, unable to discern the cause of the disruption.

Soap, however, was the only one who seemed to catch something amiss. He frowned and leaned closer to the television, his sharp eyes narrowing as he tried to decipher the unusual static pattern. While the others remained unaware, Soap had a hunch that there might be more to this interruption than met the eye, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Amidst the confusion, a static voice emerged from the television, momentarily silencing the room. Everyone's attention turned to the screen, where a voice was heard but no picture was visible yet.

"(Y/n), I'm going to walk down to Arnold's Pizza, are you coming?" The voice carried a strange and disconcerting quality, and it left the men in the room in a state of confusion. It was as if the television had become a portal to an unexpected conversation, and no one was quite sure how to respond. However, (Y/n) remained oblivious to the unfolding strangeness, still sound asleep in the midst of it all.

"What the fuck?" Soap exclaimed, his initial confusion deepening as he turned to look over his shoulder, stepping aside to allow the others in the room a clear view of the television screen. On the screen, a young man in his early twenties appeared, with tousled brown hair falling over his forehead, and warm brown eyes that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. His smile was infectious, reaching all the way to his eyes.

Soap couldn't hide his bewilderment. "Who the hell is that?" he demanded, speaking for the group, who were all equally puzzled by this unexpected presence on the television.

Price, his arms crossed, provided the answer, albeit in a somber tone. "Charlie," he stated simply, his gaze fixed on the static video of a memory. An uneasy silence settled in the room as they collectively tried to make sense of this mysterious intrusion from the past.

[rainbowdelicsunshine]

How about your top 5 smiling friends characters ranked? Your ranked lists are so cool. You are galaxy brained!!

HOOOO BOY THIS IS GONNA BE A DOOZY!!!!!!

Esp since I feel like the cast is still so small that I can barely make a Top Five with Smiling Friends but I'll try my bestest!

(Oh, and I am sososo super duper flattered and amazed that you find my rankings and thoughts to be galaxy brained)

1. Allan Red

A Allan Adventure was such a FUCKING GODTIER EPISODE

His voice, his speech patterns and his overall cadence and tone of his voice is so unique and funny I love listening to it!

He looks like a hot dog and I find that to be hilarious character design

His dynamic with the other characters is fascinating and entertaining af!

The scene with him and Finn Wolfhard's character in the pilot is one of my most favorite scenes from it!

2. Pim Pimling

He's my favorite out of the duo! (I love Charlie but if I had to pick it's Pim)

HES FUCKING ADORABLE AND SMOL AND I WANNA HUG HIM!!!!!!

THE ACCENT!!!!!! THE WAY HE TALKS!!!!! HIS SINGING!!!!!! HIS "HE-LLO" !!!!!!!!!

He lowkey reminds of my (late) Grandma!

Season One has been Pim's Best Season so Far!

3. Mr. Boss

An Absolute Unhinged Loon Who is Super Entertaining and Hilarious to Watch

Is a Cryptid of Sorts Disguised as a Human and I'm Not Gonna Think Otherwise

AGAIN HIS VOICE, THE WAY HE TALKS IS PEAK COMEDY !!!!!!!!!!

Also Love How Dark and Insidious This Fucker Gets

But it's Always Oddly Sweet that He Sees His Employees as "His Boy" aka He Sees Himself as Their Father (cuz he's Weird Like That)!

4. DJ Spit

HIS ACCENT AND CHICANO DIALECT ARE LITERALLY SO GODTIER (I learned about Chicano from DJ Spit and now HC Pyro to have a Chicano Dialect when unmasked)

HONESTLY LOVED HIM IN A ALLAN ADVENTURE HOLY SHIT !!!!!!!!!

He was the Best Part of the Frowning Friends Episode

This Guy is Pure 2020s Era SoundCloud Rap and I really like that touch

I also just really like his design for whatever reason

5. Gwimbly

I FUCKING LOVE THIS LIL FREAKAZOID'S DESIGN SO MUCH!!!!!!! DUNNO WHAT THE HELL HE IS BUT HES PERFECT!!!!!!!!

His animation style and the PS2-Esque Visuals He Has are Simply Godtier

His dialogue and catchphrase are FUCKING ICONIC !!!!!!!! OOH OOH OOH !!!!!!!!

Honestly I Felt so Bad for Him since his Situation is Pretty Much Just Valve and Nintendo Combined!

I Swear that the Wife of the Villain of the Game Used to Be Gwimbly's Girlfriend and THATS Why She Freaked Out the Way She Did....

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Thank you oh so very much for sending this in my sweet friend! It was really hard and a lot of work to get through but it was fun, I hope you have fun reading it over!

Please let me know any feedback or anything else you wanna ask about by coming back here, have an amazing and awesome day!!